


Backrubs

by Bobcatmoran



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:31:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobcatmoran/pseuds/Bobcatmoran
Summary: Jean Prouvaire has a brilliant idea. Maybe.





	Backrubs

**Author's Note:**

> From a Tumblr request meme via smithensy: Prouvaire/Bahorel, backrubs

“Bahorel. Bahorel. Bahorel.”

“Ngh. What, Prouvaire?” Bahorel rolled over from the position he had taken, sprawled on Jean Prouvaire’s Persian rug, contemplating through the pungent fumes of hashish smoke what Jehan called “a celestial scene” and Bahorel called “Where did you get all that fabric printed with stars, and how on earth did you get it tacked up on your ceiling when you own neither ladder, nor hammer, nor nails.”

“You know what we should do?”

“What?”

“We should have a backrub circle.”

“A what?”

“We can sit in a circle and give each other backrubs.”

Bahorel sat up, the better to look at Prouvaire in puzzlement, and his shoulders gave an audible pop as he rolled them.

“There, you see! Backrub circle, come come, let’s go.” Prouvaire rolled onto his stomach, then awkwardly shuffled his elbows back until he was kneeling.

“Prouvaire, there are only two of us.”

“Mm-hm!”

“How are we to face each other’s backs?”

“Oh! I…er…hm.” Prouvaire’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I know! Here, I’ll sit in front of you, and then you can do it normally, and I’ll just reach my arms backwards, like this.” He flopped his arms back over his shoulders and wiggled his fingers. “Hm, not enough of a reach.”

“Not even with your gangly arms,” Bahorel sadly agreed.

“What if we tried sitting back-to-back?” Prouvaire suggested. They tried it. “Well, that’s no good. Now neither of us can reach,” he said, and slumped back against Bahorel in disappointment. “You make a very nice chair,” he told Bahorel.

“Thank you.”

“Very sturdy.” Prouvaire reached back over his shoulder, intending to pat Bahorel on the head, but missing and sideswiping his cheek instead. “Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly.

“Oh?”

“Oh, I have another idea. Here, turn around.”

Bahorel obediently did so, then let out an “oof” of surprise as Prouvaire enveloped him in an enthusiastic hug. Then, while still hugging Bahorel, Prouvaire reached up and started massaging his shoulders.

“See?” Prouvaire said into Bahorel’s chest. “It’s very efficient — a hug and a shoulder massage at once! We should tell Combeferre about it. He would be so impressed.”

“Very scientific,” Bahorel said, returning the hug/shoulder massage.

“Ooooh, yes. A little higher on the left, please. Yes, right there.”


End file.
